


Love Thy Neighbor

by ahbonjour



Series: Adventure Voodoo [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Music, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Square dancing, don't get excited about the other characters, everyone loves sole, i tagged everyone who had a line, it's majority hancock/sole, learning they love each other, minutemen ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8573134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahbonjour/pseuds/ahbonjour
Summary: He made his way over to her and, without breaking stride, swept her into a two-step, to her companion’s confusion and surprise. The man she was with was black and strapping, a real looker, though apparently meek enough to let his partner get hijacked by the mayor. Josie (that was her name, right?) panicked briefly but at his laugh started to relax. Her hair, which had been straight when he first met her and was now starting to curl and kink, smelled like lavender.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is interactive! There are links throughout to music and I highly suggest you click them to listen as you go through. Enjoy!  
> Highly suggest you read the first part of this, but if you don't, that's fine, too.

The first time Hancock danced with Josie, it had been a calculated move. They were at a party in Goodneighbor’s square, an informal thing started by drunks being thrown out of the Third Rail despite not being done with their revelry. They’d started dancing in the square and Hancock had been so thrilled at the beauty and spontaneity of his city that he’d grabbed the nearest girl and started twirling her around, much to her drunken delight. A group of musicians set up outside CLE-0’s shop and started [a jazzy ragtime version of ‘Love Thy Neighbor’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Cqyy2snDOk), and just as Hancock’s partner was snagged by her husband, he spotted her.

He’d met Josie before, of course, when Finn had tried to extort her and he’d been required to step in. She took care of whatever business she’d had there and then he hadn’t heard from her again until she and Bobbie tried to break into his storehouse. She’d apparently talked Fahrenheit down from killing them and at the same time scared Bobbie shitless enough that she hadn’t shown her face in weeks. Fahrenheit had called her a force of nature, and she still hadn’t come to see him after his request. He was starting to get antsy.

He made his way over to her and, without breaking stride, swept her into a two-step, to her companion’s confusion and surprise. The man she was with was black and strapping, a real looker, though apparently meek enough to let his partner get hijacked by the mayor. Josie (that was her name, right?) panicked briefly but at his laugh started to relax. Her hair, which had been straight when he first met her and was now starting to curl and kink, smelled like lavender.

“Josie Fawcett?” he asked. He supposed he should’ve made sure before he dance-napped her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah?”

He grinned. “Mayor John Hancock. Happy to finally meet the legend in the flesh!”

She blushed, her dark skin patched with white turning rose. “I’m not a legend.”

“I think damn near every settlement from here to Sanctuary would beg to differ,” Hancock said with his trademark roguish grin. “I was wondering if you had a sec to talk to me.”

“Yes, definitely. That’s actually the reason I’m here, I kept meaning to come back but—!” He swung her around and dipped her, exhilaration pushing the breath from her lungs. “Can we talk in your office?”

“Sure,” he said amicably, but when she made to step away he moved with her, his hands still folded around her waist and in her own. “Once the song is over.”

She studied him as well as she could while being led around the impromptu dance floor. “My friend is gonna be mad.”

“He shoulda started waltzing you around when he had the chance!” Hancock laughed, and he was surprised by how relieved he was when she laughed, too.

* * *

[After a week of travelling together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUAYqtLQO9k), Hancock discovered many things about Josie: how she loved the old radio soap operas, how she had to have a proper breakfast when the sun rose, regardless of if they’d slept normally the night before or not, how she liked carrot flowers but not hubflowers. How she always smelled like lavender.

He’d also discovered, to his sometimes adoration but often annoyance, that she kept her radio tuned to Diamond City Radio and almost always on, albeit at a low volume. Adoration because he really did love music and there was something almost poetic about sniping a mutie suicider at long range to the tune of ‘Atomic Cocktail’, but annoyance because a) he hated Diamond City, b) he really couldn’t stand the DJ (Tyler? Travis? Whoever.), and c) it made sneaking up on people with anything less than a scoped rifle damn near impossible. Today was one of the days that option C was particularly raising his ire.

They’d been trekking through some old subway tunnels when they’d been set upon by raiders, no doubt drawn by the racket of her Pip-Boy bouncing off the old concrete walls. [Some pretty little ballad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sb4-b7hsg6w) was playing as they disposed of them, a shotgun blast keeping time with the notes here, the butt of his gun bashing in a man’s nose accentuating a minor chord there. The song, although he couldn’t hear the words, was clearly a sad one and he found himself resenting Josie more and more. How dare she keep on this pastiche of melancholy while they were in the middle of a fight! He was convinced that was what kept making him screw up, not the girl the Ink Spots thought of with a tear drop in their collective eyes.

A man rushed at him, screeching, and with an annoyed grimace Hancock shot him full in the face, buckshot turning his skin into swiss cheese and splattering blood into Hancock’s eyes as he fell. He shouted, rubbing at his eyes, looking around for more attackers as the track changed. He didn’t see or hear any but was still partially blind as he rounded on Josie, determined to give her what for. I mean, she’d nearly gotten them killed! What was she thinking?! He opened his mouth to tell her that when his vision cleared and he saw what she was doing.

Dancing. Dancing all by herself.

Neither the moves nor the song were ones he recognized, the song being [some uptempo thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjUpJLxTQCk) and the moves looking like something out of an old world movie. She pumped her fists in the air, shimmied her hips, put her splayed hands out and moved them side to side. All the while she was smiling like a crazy person as she danced over the bodies, feet barely touching the ground. She looked up at him and he saw four long streaks of blood down her cheek from some raider grabbing her face in his death knell.

“I love this song!” she cried. She jumped over to him and held her fists up to her collarbone and her hip out to one side, looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Hip bump me!”

Hancock registered the words like a sleepwalker and, as if on autopilot, raised his own fists and hip bumped her. She cheered and resumed her dancing, Hancock’s icy attitude melting as he joined her, showing her how they did it in Goodneighbor. They continued their impromptu dance party around the dead until the song ended at which point, winded, Josie finally suggested they loot the bodies and move on.

Hancock marveled at her as she picked up and pocketed a Jet inhaler. He could get used to this woman.

* * *

“[What do you mean you’ve never done it?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DhKQ3hF-lw)”

“I’ve just never done it!” Josie laughed, though he could tell by her face that she was embarrassed. “It wasn’t something I did back in the day.”

“But I mean—never?!”

“Stop!” She shoved him and he laughed with her, rubbing his arm where she had. “No, that wasn’t done back in 2077.”

“But, I mean—square dancing is so much fun!”

They were at the Starlite Drive In, his favorite of the settlements Josie had rescued. It had once been significantly dilapidated, covered in skeletons and nuclear waste, but now Hancock viewed it as the crown jewel in Josie’s network of towns, a place full of homes and shops and even a town square, all protected by a cache of high-powered turrets on the old snack shop’s roof. The open paved parking lot had been redecorated for a party as tonight the town was celebrating the marriage of two of its young people with an old-fashioned square dance. Josie wanted to give her congratulations and move on, but Hancock insisted on staying: not only were settler festivals fun, but Josie also needed the break desperately. Ever since she’d found Shaun and found out what he’d been doing, ever since she’d gone catatonic for a week and then set out with renewed, if numb, purpose—

Hancock sighed. He could see it written on her face as well. She was determined to sort out this mess like she’d once sorted out clothes and lunches and toys, only this mess was much bigger than any she’d dealt with as a housewife. This one affected the whole Commonwealth. It weighed on him heavily, and if it weighed on him so much, he couldn’t imagine the burden she must’ve been bearing.

He shook his head so hard the tricorn almost fell off and stood, offering her his hand and a smile. “Come on,” he said. “The caller tells you what to do. I know you’re not great at following orders—”

“Shut up,” she smirked, accepting his hand and allowing it to lead her to the dance floor, totally unaware of the electric shock her touch rocketed through him.

* * *

Hancock paced by the teleporter again, for the tenth time in as many minutes. He wasn’t the only one: all of Josie’s friends were waiting with bated breath, in nearby houses with dilapidated walls or seated on curbs or leaning against walls, eyes trained on the huge metal circle. Hancock couldn’t stand still, so he paced, back and forth and back and forth.

Josie and the Minutemen were taking down the Institute. Hell or high water. And Hancock had never been more scared in his life. He paced again, and Dogmeat laid down, ears flat, whine in his throat.

“They’ll be fine,” Piper said, loud enough for all of Sanctuary to hear. “They’ve got Blue, they’ll do great.”

“So you keep saying,” Danse growled.

Hancock was closest to the teleporter, and he heard it crackle first. “Shut up!” he yelled, not sure if he was yelling it to the people talking, as a general exclaimation, or to his own screaming mind. It glowed, blue and bright and smelling of burnt wires and plastic, and as quickly as she’d left earlier Josie was back. Hancock grinned and made to run to her, but stopped short: something was wrong. Her head was high but her eyes were vacant, and she didn’t say a word to anyone as she brushed past and towards her old home.

She was the first one out of the teleporter, followed by Preston and a little brunette kid Hancock didn’t recognize. Preston was stumbling, looked like he was about to be sick.

“Go after her,” he said, practically begging as he held the kid for support. “Please. Go.”

The kid looked from Preston to Hancock and back, scared. “What’s wrong with my mom?”

Hancock flinched at the word though he didn’t know why, and without further prompting he spun and jogged after the woman he would follow into hellfire.

She’d gone to Shaun’s old room, never a good sign, and when Hancock came in, she was trying to untie the mobile that still hung over the crib. “Ah, John! Man of the hour,” she said with a dead smile. He stopped short, trying to assess the situation, and leaned on the doorframe. “Come untie this for me.”

“Why?”

She faltered, just for a second, just long enough for something Hancock had seen before to flash behind her smile. “Just done with it, you know? Ready to move on.”

“Josie—”

“Hancock,” she mimicked. “Come on, help me out.”

Hancock went to her, moved his hands over where hers still struggled with the strings. “C’mon, Jos. You don’t wanna do that.”

“Don’t tell me what I fucking _want_ , John Hancock,” she hissed, her voice suddenly gone venomous. She bared her teeth and wheeled on him. “Why do you want to keep this room the same? Why, so it can be some kind of shrine? Keep it totally untouched for the baby who’s never coming back? Fuck that. Let’s tear the bitch down.”

“Jesus, Josie.”

“Don’t fuckin’—don’t get holy with me, John Hancock, I’m done. I’m just—I’m done.”

“What did you do today?” Hancock asked quietly.

“Don’t.”

“Jos—”

“[Don’t make me go back there, Hancock,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AspYEMermEg)” Josie spat, though the venom in her teeth now dripped with saltwater tears. Her radio began pouring out the first violin notes to a song he didn't immediately know. “Don’t make me go. It’ll be like last time, I’ll go back to bed and this time I won’t ever come out.”

Hancock was silent for a few minutes, gathering his bearings, his hands moving down her arms and to her sides, just above the curve of her waist. “Tell me if I get close,” Hancock said, as if he was feeling for a broken bone. “You did it. You destroyed the Institute.” She nodded, eyes starting to shimmer. “You…evacuated everyone. Saved everyone?” She shook her head and his stomach dropped. “Everyone but….”

She nodded one last time and allowed herself weakness, tipping forward to collapse into him, too tired to cry, too numb to feel anything beyond the dull ache in her spine. “I tried,” she said, draping herself on him like a scarf, knowing that any moment her knees would go out and he would be all she had. “I tried to get him to come. But he hated me so much. He _hated_ me, John.”

He grabbed her and held her up, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—I don’t know what I thought.” She clutched him a little tighter and as though in mocking he recognized the song as ‘Little Man You’ve Had a Busy Day’. She hated how the adrenaline was fleeing and she was left gasping, exhausted, shaking. “I thought—I thought—!”

Hancock shushed her and began to rock back and forth, her still cradled in his arms, feet barely touching the floor. She felt herself grow heavy in his arms, sleep come to truly claim her for the first time in a month, and it occurred to her from some vague distant consciousness that if anyone looked in at the two of them, it would look like they were dancing.

* * *

It took a month for everything to get settled, for all the nasty business with Diamond City’s mayor (Hancock couldn’t bear to think of his name anymore, so great was his guilt and misplaced loathing) to settle down and for the various factions to figure out how they felt about Josie and the Commonwealth, and for the Commonwealth to figure out how it felt about Josie. To her credit, Josie had not gone back to bed: she’d slept, yes, at the encouragement of all of her friends, but after that she’d arose from the ashes, finally, as the Minutemen’s valiant General. The role didn’t seem like it had been thrust on her anymore; now it looked as if she’d been born to do it.

[All of her friends had gone back to their homes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Legz2nbxpmc), those that had homes to go back to: Josie had relocated to the Castle, a fresh start for this new life, along with her dog and Codsworth. Preston had come along as well, eager at the heels of the woman who would save Boston, and surprisingly, so had Danse. After a long conversation Josie had promoted him to training sergeant, and he now spent his days marching back and forth in front of long lines of recruits, barking to them about how if they were out in a real fight, they’d be dead right now.

Oh yes, long lines of recruits. Everyone wanted to be on Josie’s side now.

Strong, never one to stay in one place for too long, had been hired on as Josie’s favorite, most frightening caravan guard, patrolling the more dangerous sections of the Commonwealth. Curie, for her part, joined up with Dr. Amari in studying the brain and how the synth body compared to the real deal. She seemed to be having a marvelous time.

“I miss Madame Josie, bien sur,” she told Hancock one day over lunch, “but I feel as though I am learning so much! It is good to be researching again.”

Deacon had gone back under the Old North Church and still called on assistance from their allies the Minutemen every now and again, though mostly he just called for an excuse to check up on his ‘favorite tourist’. Nick and Piper had gone back to Diamond City; after all, there were leads to follow and stories to write. Cait had followed, the caps offered by the Bobrov brothers to be their terrifying bouncer too good to pass up. Hancock went back to his office, and MacCready went back to his room at the Third Rail, and it seemed like everything had gone back to normal.

Well, mostly normal. As normal as living in a world without the constant threat of Institute infiltration and annihilation could be. It felt good.

The Brotherhood had no idea what to think of Josie. On the one hand, she was an obvious synth and feral supporter, but on the other, she and her merry band had destroyed the Institute, something they thought they’d be doing themselves. It didn’t surprise Hancock when they announced they’d be shipping off; he was surprised they’d lasted this long. It _did_ surprise him when they said they’d be doing it after General Fawcett’s party.

“A party?” Hancock had demanded over the CB when he received his invitation, hand-delivered by a Minuteman private. “You’re throwing them a _party_?”

“I’m throwing _us_ a party,” she insisted. He could practically see her kicked back at the huge tower, feet up on the table. “Weapons at the door, all factions invited, neutral ground at Diamond City. Despite what you think, I actually like some of the Brotherhood dudes, and I can guarantee the ones I don’t like won’t show. Plus, it’ll do the Railroad some good to actually take a night off.”

Hancock rolled his eyes at the word ‘dude’. “You think they’ll actually show? Either of them?”

“I think they both owe me too many favors for them to refuse me just about anything at this point.”

“You’re getting cocky!” Hancock laughed, putting his own feet up on his desk. “I love it! Will Danse be there?”

“It’s an open secret that he’s not really dead,” Josie assured him. “I think it’ll be nice for his friends to see that he’s safe and still doing what he loves.”

“Aw, you’re breaking my heart, here.” Hancock turned the cream-colored invite over in his hands. “Last question: is it really fancy dress?”

Now it was Josie’s turn to laugh, throaty and crackling over the radio. “You bet your ass, Mr. Mayor.”

[Which is how Hancock found himself](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_YG9XBX04Y), bow-tied and coiffed, at the field where there used to be a stage for mayoral speeches on the Diamond City green. The citizens had torn it down in a fit of anger a month ago, but through an amazing fundraising campaign put on by Piper and Travis, a small park had been built in its place. Tonight it was festooned with streamers and twined with music, the official dance floor for the biggest party in the Commonwealth.

Josie had been right, _everyone_ had showed. The green might be the official dance floor, but the party spilled out all over the stadium, into the Home Plate and the Dugout Inn and even, to the namesake’s chagrin, the Valentine Detective Agency, currently mobbed by people wanting to meet the famous synth super sleuth. The Commonwealth kids had shown up in droves, per Josie’s encouraging, and little Shaun was holding court over his own subjects in the schoolhouse. Everyone was dressed to the nines and the noodles and booze flowed freely, as well as the laughter, dancing, and general joy.

Which is why Hancock was surprised to see Josie slinking around the edges, looking sad. She caught his eye briefly, but swiftly moved hers away and scooted closer into the shadows.

Hancock straightened his tie. Well. This just wouldn’t do.

He marched over without drawing too much attention to himself, pausing every so often to shake a hand, ask after the kids, dispense a well-earned Jet inhaler. By the time he got to where she was, she was no longer there, and he had to catch up to her near the newly-painted green monster.

She looked stunning, in a slinky silver dress covered with little specks that caught the moonlight and shone like stars. Her hair was twisted into complicated braids, her lips painted red and lush. She barely looked at him as he walked over, but she did smile when he wolf-whistled.

“Damn, hot stuff, now I know why you wanted to make it fancy dress.”

“And why’s that?”

“’Cause if I had a body like that, I’d use any excuse I had to put it in a tight dress and show off. Come on, give Hancock a little twirl.” She shot him a dirty look. “Eh, close enough.” He came over next to her and leaned on the wall. “So what’s shakin’, sad face?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Hancock insisted, poking her in the arm. “You were so excited when you got here, now, what? Gonna just knock off to the sidelines?”

“No, I just,” she huffed, playing with one of her braids, tucking it behind her ear and pulling it back out. “I thought if I was this big damn hero, I might be able to, y’know—not get rejected so much anymore.”

If Hancock had eyebrows, they would’ve shot up. “The hell are you talking about?” he demanded, rounding to stand in front of her. “You couldn’t get rejected if you tried!”

“Not true!”

“Name _one_ person who’s rejected you!”

“Preston!” she blurted, before she’d even thought about it. Instantly the blush Hancock remembered from their first meeting crept back up her neck and she looked down at the ground. “I-I mean, yeah.”

“[Preston made you leader of the Minutemen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHBSgRue-O8),” Hancock ventured carefully, knowing full well that wasn’t what she meant, hoping against hope it was. “That’s not exactly a rejection.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Josie muttered. “I—I just asked him to dance, and he got all flustered and said he was flattered, but not interested in me that way and he didn’t want to lead me on.” She pressed her fist to her forehead, not seeing Hancock’s small smile. “God, I’m so stupid. I thought, we just spent so much time together, and he seemed kinda jealous after….” She trailed off, the blush deepening.

Hancock’s smile broadened. “After what?”

“You know,” Josie groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Yeah, but I want you to say it.”

“He seemed jealous after,” she widened her fingers and peeked out between them, lowering her voice to a whisper. “After we kissed.”

“Oh right, I seem to remember something like that,” Hancock said, mocking a tone of realization as she pitifully bapped him on the shoulder. “You told him about that?”

“Yeah, I tell him about most of my life,” Josie said offhandedly, pointedly oblivious to Hancock’s silent concern over what all, exactly, she’d told him. “I thought he and I were close enough for that. I know _you’re_ not ready for a relationship, but—”

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Josie laughed, a little amused, a little shock. “ _You_ did.”

“Yeah, like, six months ago. And I said neither of us was ready.”

“And you were right, but now I am, and I thought Preston was,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “but I guess he’s _not_ because he won’t even dance with me.”

Hancock laughed and leaned over next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Okay, sunshine, you didn’t hear this from me,” he whispered, pulling her close to put the remainder of his lips next to her ear. “But Garvey. He’s not ever gonna be ready for a relationship with you.”

Josie flinched and touched her vitiligo cheeks. “Why? Does he not find me attractive?”

“No, Jos. He’s _gay_.”

Josie’s eyes widened and she turned to look at Hancock so fast he was surprised her neck didn’t snap. “You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not. Caught him flirting with Dansey-pants.” Hancock batted his nonexistent eyelashes for emphasis. “Teaching him how to shoot a laser musket. Very, very handsy.”

Josie stared at him for a second, then groaned and dropped her head back against his arm in frustration. “Of course,” she grunted. “Of course he’s gay. Why does every guy I like turn out to be gay?! Every time!”

“Your husband wasn’t—” Hancock began, but her sharp look silenced him. “Oh.”

The noise made her soften and she rolled her head over towards his. “Nate and I were best friends,” she explained as his hand sought hers. “And I loved him, and he loved me. But I could tell. Our marriage had an expiration date from the beginning.”

“So why’d you marry him?”

“I just said, we loved each other. We both wanted a family, the picket fence and 2.5 kids and the whole shebang. It wasn’t until Shaun that I realized you can’t just fake love forever. It hurts too bad.” She closed her eyes and Hancock could see her heart seizing up with the flood of rejection and sadness and grief. “Every time. I’m so embarrassed.”

Hancock unwound his arm from her shoulders and used the hand that was holding hers to tug her towards the dance floor. “[Come on](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6oGytt0Hiw).”

“John—”

“Dance with me. Fuck ‘em. Dance with _me_ ,” he said. Josie looked into his black eyes, staring at her with such softness and sincerity. His calloused hand held hers tightly, and his mouth curved up in a smile she’d come to count on over the past year. Travis switched the song from the Jitterbug Waltz to You’re the Top. He tugged her hand again. “Come on, sunshine, they’re playing our song.”

 Josie’s breath hitched when he said it and it was all he needed to pull her to him and waltz her out to the dance floor like he had the night they’d met, his hand around her waist, his face pressed against the curve of her hair. He inhaled and, for the thousandth time, fell in love with the smell of lavender.

* * *

“John?”

“Mm?”

He sat beside her on the roof of the Home Plate. The party was winding down below them, the last-minute stragglers straggling to wherever it was they came from as the sun crested over the horizon. All of the members of Josie’s inner circle and several of the members of her concentric circles had been invited to crash in the Home Plate proper and the sleeping arrangements made Hancock wish he knew how to work a camera; Deacon curled desperately against Cait, who had her hand in his face; Dogmeat draped across Shaun, practically engulfing him; and of course, everyone’s favorite paladin and the handsome colonel entwined in a corner.

Preston had, eventually, pulled Josie aside and explained everything to her. Josie, to her credit, wasn’t too upset with him, except for the fact that he didn’t feel like he could tell her. The remainder of the night he and Danse spent nearly glued at the hip, with several reputable sources telling her that in the more liquor-soaked part of the night they’d witnessed the two making out in Chem-I-Care (much to Solomon’s chagrin).

Josie had laughed and waved the reports off. So what? Let them be happy.

For her own part, Josie had spent the night shaking hands, laughing, and [dancing, dancing, dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IdN9lHTUaQ). She danced with everyone who came her way to ask. Piper had twirled her out for an enthusiastic Charleston, and Valentine had swept her into the most well-led foxtrot she’d ever been a part of. Even Elder Maxson took her out for a stiff, formal dance just before he and the Brotherhood left for good.

“I couldn’t leave without one dance with you,” he said, his smile a little forced, a little nervous. He held her at arms’ length, both literally and figuratively. “You’ve done a good thing.”

“You can’t come back,” Josie replied, her own smile totally genuine and gentle. “You know that. The Commonwealth is under my jurisdiction now, and I can’t have you all killing people I love. It won’t end well for you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not at all.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, whispering in his ear, “It’s a promise.”

He’d left after that song, giving Josie a stiff bow and whistling for his soldiers to follow him. Hancock suspected they’d see an airship flying above them any minute. Back to DC.

Desdemona had also invited her to dance and Josie had accepted with no hesitation, blushing a little when Desdemona put her hands on Josie’s hips and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Despite Hancock’s best efforts he couldn’t hear their conversation over Deacon and Drummer Boy’s whooping and hollering. When they finished Hancock immediately ushered Josie off for a drink.

“What’d you two talk about?”

Josie scoffed and swatted him. “Nothing you need to know about!”

“Ooh, juicy. Should I be jealous?”

“Always.” Josie accepted the drink and drank half of it in one go. “We just settled the allying of the Minute Men and the Railroad.”

“That’s all?” Hancock asked dubiously.

Josie smirked. “That’s all _you_ need to know about.”

The members of the Railroad had all, at some point or another, managed to crawl back to whatever tunnel they’d climbed out of; well, all except Deacon. But it was hard to pry Deacon away from a party even under bad circumstances, and this was far from a bad circumstance.

Josie, selfless Josie, kind Josie, had given up every single bed in her house without stopping to think of herself, so she’d instead settled on heading up to the empty roof and lounging in an Adirondack chair with a bottle of rum. Hancock had joined her not too long afterward, having extricated himself from Daisy’s teary recollections long enough to offer her his bed. Now they sat together, in mismatched metal loungers, watching the sky paint itself pink and orange and white. The world around them was quiet and their voices lowered to match it, shy to break the lovely silence of Diamond City at dawn.

Josie hesitated before saying, “We really did just talk.”

“Who?”

“Me and Desdemona. There’s nothing there. She’s cute, but…she’s married to her work.”

“Hah!” Hancock guffawed, casting Josie a good-natured if pointed look. “I know how that is.”

“Oh, shut up,” she giggled, swatting at him. They sat quietly a few minutes longer, and Josie didn’t move her hand from where its back lay against his chest. Hancock was certain she could feel his heart beat loud below it. “You were wrong, by the way.”

“Of course I was.” A pause. “About what?”

“Our song. You said they were playing our song.” Her head lolled onto its side to look at him through inebriated, sleepy eyes. “But that’s not our song.”

Hancock was surprised, in his own drunk and muted way. “Really? What is it, then?”

“Love Thy Neighbor.” Josie moved her hand down, seeking his. “That’s the one they played in Goodneighbor the day we met. I hummed it for weeks afterward. God, you made me feel so much. You made me feel…for the first time in a while.”

“Josie.”

She caught herself and smiled, sad and exhausted. “Sorry. Drunk.”

“No, no, I….” He swallowed, and found her hand, and wrapped it in his own. “I don’t—I don’t know what a relationship is, really. Not a lot of people do, anymore, where I’m from. I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

“You _are_ what I want.”

“I’m not Preston, I can’t be like him, he’s what you want—”

“ _You’re_ what I want.”

“I can’t be what you want,” Hancock insisted, the alcohol and drugs and heady scent of lavender mugging his thoughts. “I’m so—Jos, you’re the queen of the world, and I’m, I don’t know, I’m not a thing like that.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, muttering into its palm, “I’m not what you deserve.”

“You are what I want,” she murmured, repeating like a prayer, a supplication. “You are what I want, you are what I want.”

“God, this sappy shit,” Hancock said, half laughing as he tried to blink back the sudden wetness in his eyes. He stood, if only for something to do. “Come on, come here.”

She stumbled up as well and he caught her, pulling her to his chest and [fiddling with her Pip-Boy’s recorded songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qSktm9wK2o) until ‘Love Thy Neighbor’ began pouring out of the tinny speakers. With no prompting she reached up and put her hands behind his neck, pulling him near, letting him do the same to her. They swayed on the rooftop, not enough energy for more of a dance than that. Hancock’s head dipped onto her shoulder and she moved her hands to twine behind his neck

“I’m what you want?” he whispered.

“You’re what I want,” she whispered.

And he kissed her, and this time it felt like a promise.


End file.
